Refuge
by BarracudaHeart
Summary: "Do you know what it's like to see the person who loves you the most in the world look at you in such a way that you just know they're deathly afraid of you now?"
**This is a oneshot that is kind of a sequel to 'Glass Unicorn' but also kind of not I guess? Anyway, I really love talking to my friend Sal about Ronaldo's psyche and how there's a lot of stuff in canon that kind of gets overlooked about him, and that it could all be foreshadowing to some pretty intense stuff regarding himself.**

 **Alrighty, enjoy!**

* * *

"Can I stay here for tonight?"

Lars stared in bewilderment at the person standing on the opposite side of the doorway, and slowly lowered the croquet mallet in his hand that he'd grabbed from the game closet, on the way to the door in case he needed to defend himself.

"Ronaldo? What the fuck?", Lars hissed under his breath, not wanting to wake his parents up, "It's almost three in the goddamn morning."

"Can I stay here?", Ronaldo repeated again, voice barely above a whisper, "Please?"

Lars glared with irritation, snapping, "Go sleep in your horror house, I have to work in the morning."

"...I can't," Ronaldo mumbled, sheepishly staring at his sandals, "I can't go in there."

Furrowing his brow, Lars gave a questioning look, "Huh? Why, what happened?"

"Can I just sleep on your couch or something?", Ronaldo asked, a little more of desperation in his tone, "I don't want to talk about it."

Lars continued to stare at the teenager standing on his porch wearing a thick hoodie to guard from the cold nighttime air, and a small duffel bag that was probably stuffed with clothes, and took a breath through his nose, sighing, "Aight. Come in."

Ronaldo sheepishly followed behind him, mumbling a soft thank you as Lars led him up the stairs.

"Why are you carrying a croquet mallet?", he asked in a whisper, giving a small smile to tease.

"You knocked on my door in the middle of the night, I didn't know if you were a burglar," Lars hissed, face red with embarrassment, and chucked the mallet back in the game closet once they got to the top of the stairs.

Tiptoeing, he led Ronaldo into his room, and muttered for him to stay there, heading into the attic to grab the air mattress he'd stowed up there for whenever someone was staying overnight, and placed it on the floor of his messy bedroom so it was parallel to his bed, kicking dirty clothes and clutter out of the way.

"I could just sleep on the couch-"

"And have my parents find you? No way, fucko," Lars clicked his tongue, and grabbed a spare blanket from his closet, and a pillow, putting a fresh case over it, then pointed his hand at the makeshift bed, "There. Sleep on that."

"Wow. Comfy," Ronaldo mumbled sarcastically, and kicked off his sandals, pulling off his hoodie, then his button-up, and his shorts, so he was left in his undershirt and boxers, flopping onto the mattress, and pulling the blanket up, watching Lars crawl back into his bed and get comfortable.

"Well, uh, goodnight," Ronaldo spoke awkwardly, and lay back on the pillow, assuming Lars was going to turn out his bedside lamp.

Lars gave a disapproving look, and leaned on an elbow, "Tell me what's going on, already."

"It's nothing, alright?", Ronaldo huffed, "Turn out the light."

"Why did you come here?"

"Can you just drop it already?"

"I'm not turning out the light until you tell me."

Ronaldo reached over to under the nightstand, and unplugged the lamp.

"Dickhead," Lars hissed in the dark.

Smiling with self satisfaction, Ronaldo closed his eyes, intending to get to sleep until he heard what sounded like a faint buzzing sound which was growing louder by the second.

Did this room suddenly get filled with bees?

Opening his eyes with panic, Ronaldo looked up to Lars' bed to see the teen's face illuminated by the glow of his phone screen as he played audio of a buzzing hive off of it, giving a smug look.

"Turn that off! I want to sleep," the guest whispered irritably.

"Are you going to tell me why you're here?"

"Why do you want to know so badly?"

"Well who in their right mind would come to someone's house at three AM? Especially someone like you, coming to someone like me?", Lars muttered, and shined his phone's light onto Ronaldo's face, "Something's fucking you up, so tell me already."

After a silence, Ronaldo lay flat on the floor, staring straight ahead at the ceiling, "I got kicked out of the house."

"The _shit?_ ", Lars hissed, looking surprised, "Seriously? Oh hell, man, like...what happened?"

"I don't really want to talk about it," Ronaldo muttered.

"...Did your mom come back or something?"

"No, no, not that," Ronaldo sighed, "Thank god for that, but uh...", he took a breath and sighed, "I uh...went to go to the lighthouse today, and there was a lock on it, and it turns out my dad put it there. Guess he got tired of me going there, and wanted me to work at the shop more...and not be like...well, _this_ all the time...so uh...", Ron's voice broke a little, "We kind of-" a hard swallow, "Had a fight...and now...I'm out of the house," he finished with a sharp breath.

"Uh...wow," Lars mumbled, "...is this like a permanent thing?"

"...I don't know," Ronaldo whispered, "I hope it's not..."

"Well uh, yeah...hope so too," his host replied awkwardly, deciding it was best not to ask anymore questions. Leaning over the side of the bed, he reached under the nightstand, and replugged his lamp in, turning it on, and sighed, "I'll send a call into work tomorrow, phone in sick."

"Wh- Lars, you don't have to do that."

"Well, I don't want to leave you in my place all alone-" Lars realized he sounded too concerned, then snorted, "You'd just rifle through all my stuff."

"I could probably have that lock hacked off the lighthouse door by tomorrow-", Ronaldo mumbled, "Besides, it's not like my dad would stop me. He said for all he cared, I could break through the wall with my head-"

Lars' stomach tightened, imagining Ronaldo's father roaring that at his eldest son as he hurried him out the door. He mumbled, "What are you going to do for food and stuff like that?"

"I don't know yet," Ronaldo mumbled, "Right now, I feel too sick to even think about eating."

After a bit of silence, and Lars making no move to turn off the light while he sat in bed, thinking deeply, he looked to Ronaldo, and gave a reserved smile, "Did I tell you my sister was in town a couple weeks back?"

"She was? How'd I not know this?"

"I guess I forgot to say anything," Lars shrugged, scrolling through his phone.

"How is she?"

"...Really great, actually," Lars mumbled, almost in disbelief, "She ended up getting married about five...maybe six years ago? She brought her husband with her, and I got to meet him and my nephew."

"You have a nephew now?", Ronaldo smiled, sitting up a bit, "How old is he?"

"He was like three or four," he mused, then wheezed, "And god, he was cute. Like, really fucking cute- I've got pictures, wanna see?", he held his phone out.

"Uh...ok," Ronaldo began to scroll absentmindedly, "So is she on OK terms with your parents now?"

"...eh...not exactly," Lars sighed, "They kind of tore into her once she showed up, so I ended up meeting her and the family out of the house, and we all kind of hung out for a bit, went out for dinner and stuff. Caught up...guess she felt really bad about not contacting me for all those years, but whenever she called, it would be my mom or dad who picked up, and she didn't want to talk to them. Guess that's why I didn't hear about her wedding or getting invited."

"Aw," Ronaldo sighed, scrolling the pictures, seeing a few goofy selfies of Lars holding his nephew, and gave a small smile, "Yeah, your nephew's pretty cute. Not as cute as _me_ , but-"

"Shaddup, you looked like a pineapple as a kid," Lars snorted, taking back the phone, and turning it off, hoping he'd managed to cheer up the other teen a little bit.

Ronaldo gave a reserved chuckle, and stared at the ceiling, swallowing hard, "Uh...do you remember like...back in first grade when I was gone out of school for over three weeks? And they put me in remedial classes for the rest of the year?"

"Oh yeah," Lars muttered, "Dang, that strep throat of your was killer, huh?"

"It wasn't that," Ronaldo admitted, "My dad told me that's what I had to say to my friends."

Lars sat up a bit, looking curious.

"So...do you remember how I was into aliens? Like _really_ into aliens? Especially grays?"

"Yeah, kind of," Lars mumbled.

"Well um...I guess I got really carried away with it...and thought my brother was one in disguise."

"Really?"

"Yeah...and um...I tried to-" Ronaldo's voice died a bit, "Autopsy him. I had a knife and everything."

"...Oh shit," Lars whispered, slowly realizing the horrifying confession Ronaldo was making, "Y-you almost-"

"I almost cut my baby brother open," Ronaldo answered with a dead voice, "And I didn't see anything wrong about it when I was about to do it. I didn't even think it was actually him."

"Oh shit."

Ronaldo's voice got a little funny, "My dad found me right as I had the knife over Peedee, and he screamed and shoved at me to get away from him. The knife knicked Peedee's stomach, so my dad had to take him to the ER- but uh...before he did that-"

Lars was silent in horror.

"He locked me in the basement, and I was basically screaming all night."

"O-Oh man, Ron, I-"

"That's not the end of it," Ronaldo muttered, hands gripping the blanket over his legs, "When he got back, he didn't even let me out...not for like...almost twelve hours," he whispered, "And then he ended up calling school, telling them I'd be sick for a few weeks... _maybe more,_ " he reminisced, "He told me we were going on a drive..."

"...Ron?", Lars grew uncomfortable at the silence that followed.

"He ended up taking me to like...five different doctors several times, all of them asking me different questions and making me do different things like writing about what happened and stuff like that. I didn't even know what it was for...I just know that once I got home after every one of those visits, my dad didn't want me being alone with my brother anymore-"

"Oh god, that's _horrible-_ " Lars squeaked under his breath.

"It didn't seem that bad when it happened," Ronaldo admitted, "After a few months, my dad was a little less... _scared_ of me...I think? And I could spend time with Peedee a little bit more every day...Still...he'd make me go see all those doctors every couple months and I'd miss all that school...no wonder I'm so stupid, right?"

"H-hey, y'know, you were just a kid," Lars tried to factor in, "And kids do stupid shit sometimes...hell knows I've-"

"You didn't try to _murder_ your little nephew when you first met him, did you?", Ronaldo asked coldly.

Lars' stomach immediately dropped, "Wh-"

"Yeah. I said it. My dad even told me earlier tonight," Ronaldo sat up, grinning mirthlessly, "I almost _murdered_ my brother!"

Lars struggled to make words, but his voice was getting stolen away as Ronaldo suddenly blinked away frustrated tears.

"Guess my dad was scared that 'crazy' was going to run in the family, and decided the lighthouse was bad for me! That everything I do is bad for me!", the teen snapped, "Who cares if it made me happy! Completing an autopsy on a gray would have made me happy as a kid! If I'd had my way and did everything that made me happy, I would have murdered my little brother!"

"R-Ronaldo calm down!", Lars whispered, both horrified at what his friend was saying, and afraid his parents would wake up.

"Why? Afraid I might try to kill you too? It's not like I haven't done that before!", Ronaldo laughed bitterly, rubbing at his face, "My family is afraid of me, he even said so! How much farther do I have to push it until I get committed somewhere that they don't have to put up with me anymore?"

Lars was huddled in the corner of his bed furthest from Ronaldo, watching him with terror.

"H-He even told Peedee what I did," Ronaldo suddenly whimpered, holding back a sob, "Peedee didn't even _know_ about it until he brought it up...he was too young to remember it...", he looked right at Lars with a broken expression, "Do you know what it's like to see the person who loves you the most in the world look at you in such a way that you just _know_ they're deathly afraid of you now?"

"Oh god," Lars mumbled, "Ron that's-"

"It's bad enough if your family- your friends- everyone is ashamed of you... but for them to be afraid of you? To _hate_ you?", Ronaldo whimpered through tears, letting them freely fall.

Lars' chest ached with emotional turmoil as he watched Ronaldo cry and sob on his bedroom floor, and he was left struggling to find words that would help the teen dispel the thoughts that his family feared him. Part of him wouldn't blame them for being wary of that sort of behavior...but at the same time, Lars had a feeling Ronaldo never really got the comfort he truly needed when things got to their worst.

Scooting himself to the edge of the bed, Lars sat on it, letting his feet hang over, and stretched a leg out to touch Ronaldo with his toe, "Hey."

Ronaldo flinched at the touch, still a teary mess, and sniffled, looking up.

Lars balanced a box of tissues on his other foot, trying not to look too impressed with himself for doing so, offering the box out, "Take 'em."

"Wh-"

"They're not jerk-off tissues, promise," Lars assured hoarsely, "They're just normal tissues."

Ronaldo took the box with uncertainty, and set it on the floor beside his knee.

Scooting all the way off the bed, and settling on the floor, Lars lounged against the side of his mattress and sighed, "Okay, look. I'm not a good guy to turn to for comfort, I just kind of like...have nothing to offer? But I guess I can tell you this? I'm not afraid of you? Like? At all?"

Rubbing his face with a handful of the tissues, Ronaldo looked at him curiously.

"It's like...pretty clear to me, you've got a lot of shit to deal with, and I am gonna say right now, half of the stuff you've done is pretty...not normal, and yeah you did almost kill me, but I ain't even mad?"

"...yeah?"

"Mental illness- scary words- yeah," Lars waved his hands a little, "Mental illness...is a complete and utter shitshow. Like a circus tent getting set on fire and all the clowns trying to put it out with gasoline while someone is singing crappy-ass country music in the background and then everyone gets set on fire but they still keep going until they're barbecue. Like it's a really bad shitshow. And sometimes you have to cope with it in weird ways. I can say that much. I mean, I handle my shit through meds and headphones in public places...you handle your shit through well...your own thing," Lars shrugged, "And by 'your own thing' I don't mean you almost cutting your brother open-"

"Let's not go there," Ronaldo warned.

"You didn't ever do it again, did you?", Lars pointed out, "And you know there's repercussions to cutting people open in this country, riiiight?"

"Yes but-"

"Then that sort of shit isn't your way of coping," Lars assured, "I mean...you're in a pretty rough place here, man...but fuck you're toughing it out."

"Seriously? You seriously think that?"

"Yeah. Like yeah, your blog sucks, and you're wrong about absolutely everything in the world, but...you always put on this stupid happy face when you do it...and it's because you like doing it right?"

"...I do really like doing it. It...makes me feel...well-"

"It makes you feel better when the rest of the time you hate yourself right?"

"...yeah...that," Ronaldo mumbled, wiping his eyes again.

"And like, I have no idea what's gonna happen with you getting back in the house and whatever, but like...at least know I'm not afraid of you?"

"...Alright...thanks then," Ronaldo sighed, and lay back on the air mattress, taking off his glasses.

"...You want soup? I've got miso paste in the kitchen," Lars offered.

"No thank you..." Ronaldo murmured, staring at the ceiling, his face red from crying, and sighed, "I think I'll try to revisit one of those doctors. I remember liking one of them," Ronaldo sighed, "But then I'd end up missing another chunk of school. I already almost got held back a grade because of all this mess."

"So those two weeks in sophomore year where you said you got mono-"

"I had mono. And that made things even worse," Ronaldo groaned.

"Oh," Lars held back a small giggle, and then sighed, "Aight. Sorry for keeping you up. You probably wanna hit the hay now and stuff."

"Yeah. Kind of," Ronaldo mumbled, "...thanks again," he sighed, and curled up under the blankets, dozing off right before his phone beeped beside him on the floor. He was exhausted.

The little flickering text light from the phone was irritating Lars, who was desiring to sleep in as long as he could, and he reached for the phone to dismiss the notification.

His eye just happened to catch the glance of the words on the screen, and his curiosity was piqued.

 _Peedee: Ronaldo, are you ok? i was really worried when dad sent you out...he says you can come back home tomorrow he feels really bad but i dont blame you if youre still mad at him and me for getting scared about everything. I know you didnt mean what happened, so its ok. i hope youre ok and youre not stuck lost anywhere ok? ok sorry youre probably sleeping bye_

Lars ever so carefully set the phone on top of the nightstand so it wasn't a bother.

Ronaldo deserved a good night's sleep.


End file.
